When Robin was visiting, she and I engaged in savage straw-blowing battles, in which we blew the paper in straws at one another until the floor was littered with bits of paper. Robin claimed victory, but I think it was a draw.

Yesterday, Emma texted me that Robin assaulted her with straws at dinner last night. She was not pleased.  I said I was glad I had taught her something important.

My descendants will be blowing straws at one another as long as there are straws. It’s something to be proud of as long as it lasts.

Maria, ever the artist, collected the straws used in the battle and crafted a raft out of them for reasons known only to her—something about sailing away on one.

Robin saw Maria sewing the raft and asked to help.Maria was impressed, she said Robin was a natural.

Maria topped the raft off by drawing a frog on it and shipping it off to Brooklyn. Robin says she loved it and planned to cruise it one day.  Two creatives speaking the same language. She loved the frog also.

Robin is a fiercely competitive granddaughter; you can see in her eyes. She refused to hug me as she left but promised to return. “With straws,” she added.